


Mr. Brightside

by sharedwithyou



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angstangstangst, Dark Humor, F/M, FEELSFEELSFEELS, Infidelity, Minor Mindfucks? Since i can't have a fic with no mindfucks, Sorry Not Sorry, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mildly inspired by Mr. Brightside- The Killers<br/>tried to make it not so cliche</p><p>WARNING: Spoilers for Moulin Rouge :P<br/>possible triggers of infidelity?</p><p> </p><p>“Never fall in love with a whore.”</p><p>“Classic line!” Tony yells and slaps you on the back, causing you to spit your slushie all over his lap.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but your Mid-Movie Blowjob fantasy will just have to be satisfied another time.”<br/>“Hmph.”<br/>“Probably by someone else.”<br/>“You said it, not me,” he crowed, poking you in the cheek with an oh-so-innocent smirk.<br/>And you wished at that moment that you hated him more.<br/>And yourself less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Brightside

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY NOT SORRY  
> this is angsty, and based on a very cliche song; but i think i did a great job in making it unique and uncliche  
> experience of reading may be greatly enhanced by listening to Mr. Brightside by The Killers
> 
> WARNING: SPOILERS for moulin rouge (it's been out for a while, and really you're not missing much)  
> also infidelity if that's a trigger for you
> 
> this fic is dying for a sequel but i wanted to post it as a one-shot first
> 
> ENJOY!!! give me some love if you liked
> 
> XOXO Bucky (the Lovely)

 

 

“Never fall in love with a whore.”

 

“Classic line!” Tony yells and slaps you on the back, causing you to spit your slushie all over his lap.

“Dude!”

“Damn, now my crotch is all cold.” You rooted around for a napkin, while he hummed obnoxiously.

“…what.”

“I know how you could warm it up-“

“Nope.”

“Why not?!” He whined, irritating you and endearing him to you all at the same time. Story of your life, I guess.

“I’m sorry, but your Mid-Movie Blowjob fantasy will just have to be satisfied another time.”

“Hmph.”

“Probably by someone else.”

“You said it, not me,” he crowed, poking you in the cheek with an oh-so-innocent smirk.

And you wished at that moment that you hated him more.

And yourself less.

 

“Come on, you look gorgeous.” His words were so gosh darn sweet; but you stayed back in the limo for a few seconds more, buying time with natural pink lipstick.

You felt red was too showy for your personality.

Maybe because it reminded you of prostitutes.

Not that you’d ever met one; to your knowledge at the very least.

Just from free-wheeling free-spirits.

Too free to know how much they were breaking your heart.

 

“Hurry,” he urged, nudging you with his knee repeatedly, as you dropped your lipstick onto your lap.

“Augh!”

“Oops.”

“Ugh, I gotta deal with this or it’s gonna stain.”

“That’s what-“

“Shush!” You made an Oscar-worthy performance of dabbing furiously at the stain. “You know what, why don’t you go first without me?”

“What, without my leading lady?!” He was dying to go already, but a small part of him still wanted you with him.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“…okay.” He straightened his suit, cracking his neck as he adjusted his neck in the rearview mirror. “Here I go then.”

“Okay, Cindy Crawford.”

He reached out to pinch you, saw you were still working frantically on the stain, and held back. You looked up for the tiniest of seconds to let him know that you’d be fine.

Just fine.

 

And with that, he threw the door open to the flash of photographers and the bright lights of living a life on his terms.

 

As the limo driver got up to close the door and make another trip round the block while you cleaned up his mess, the lenses made a round to the woman in the backseat.

You faked a shy smile, and somehow in his limited wisdom the man you loved turned around, remembering you.

And slipped back in for a kiss on the cheek, before he left you again.

 

When the door closed you dropped the tissue on the empty seat beside you and leaned back in your seat with a sigh.

“To the side entrance then, ma’am?”

“Yes, please.”

You finished painting your smile on, and braced yourself for a night of people you didn’t care about, for a man who didn’t care enough about you.

 

“There’s my girl!” Tony called boisterously from a top of a seriously indulgent double-staircase.

He never tired of the limelight, evidently.

“Hey you.” You never put on a movie star front, even at the filthiest rich galas. He said that was something he loved about you; and he was probably right.

“Everyone raise your glasses, to the most beautiful woman in the world.” And he mostly meant it, you thought.

“Except maybe Jennifer Lopez.” And there was that mouth. There was a ripple of tension through the room, gauging your reaction. You let out an easy laugh, and you meant it completely.

This was the Tony you knew. Unabashed, unmistakenly brash, and brutally honest. You’d never faulted him for it.

A lady in a shimmering silver dress nearby still wasn’t able to muster a smile at the tasteless remark. You guessed her self-esteem needed some work as well.

You knew from the look on her face, and not her actual features that had popped up along with nudes and explicit texts in his phone, that they were fucking.

Being the Other Woman, or perhaps one of the Other Women probably didn’t feel that hot either.

But that wasn’t your problem, was it.

 

Still, she was the first that you found out about.

The rest came in like a waterfall of blood from some haunted house horror movie.

The amount of lies he’d bred, not just to you, was worthy of a sociopath.

And that was the real cause of concern; that somehow beyond it all, he had it within him to love.

 

He was unmistakably in love with you.

 

It didn’t compute; not even when you dryly asked Jarvis to run some algorithms.

He’d given you a projected number of women Tony had likely had sexual relations with, plus or minus six of a confidence interval. He hadn’t offered you any names; computer:engineer confidentiality. You didn’t ask him which ones had happened while the two of you were together.

He might have blown a gasket at the artificial intelligence moral script.

You didn’t think knowing exactly how many people Tony had let you down with, and how many people Tony had let down, would make you feel any better.

You knew better than to try to find closure that way.

 

And you did your hardest not to blame the other women; the “whores.”

You knew, that while there were plenty of girls who’d sleep with him knowing he was “committed,” he’d find a twisted sense of integrity in finding ones who would only consent when he told them, lied to them, that the two of you were ‘on a break.’

 

You didn’t believe in “breaks.” It was either on, or it was over.

 

And it was quickly approaching the latter.

 

“You having fun?”

Letting someone else have attention for a few seconds, Tony walked up and whispered in your ear, reminding you that he was human.

“Yes, actually. I am.”

“Wow!” You usually detested these events; but the busy music and bustling faces were a welcome change to usual lonely music that accompanied your musings.

He pressed a hand against your forehead, a Drama Queen as always.

His softer side slipped out then, when he pressed his own against yours.

“I think I’ve found the perfect woman.”

“Does that mean I’m too good for you?” You teased, almost scaring yourself with the absolute absence of bitterness in that rhetorical.

“Of course not!” He huffed, a character. “I, (y/n), am the living incarnation of perfection.”

 

You saw through his façade, then; not the unsteady, self-doubting man behind the iron suit.

But the guilty, broken lover behind the billionaire playboy suit begging for the forgiveness he thought he knew he’d never get.

 

But you think you could find it in yourself to forgive him.

Just not enough to stay.

 

“Never fall in love with a whore.”

 

The woman in the silver dress looked up from rinsing her face (and mouth) in the sink, surprised that you’d approached her, or that you’d spoken at all.

Her red lipstick was smudged around the corners, and she reached for a paper towel to wipe away at it furiously. You knew she felt more like a prostitute than you judged her as such.

“Right…” She trailed off, searching her bag for a reapplication. “…shit.”

“Everything cool?”

“I left my lipstick in the car.” She smoothed her hair, looking at her imperfect reflection with a heart-breaking look of disappointment; knowing she wasn’t good enough.

 

She was beautiful. Just like you were.

 

“Here. Use mine. Pink would look great with your complexion.” You handed it to her, daring her to make some germ-related rebuff. Your mouth’s been in lower places than mine, babe.

Instead, she accepted it gratefully, applying carefully, hoping to erase her shame and self-loathing.

“Thanks.” She handed it back, but you shook your head. “Keep it. You probably need it more than I do.”

She blushed a rosy red. Though her lips had been somewhere you’d rather not touch, you hadn’t meant it as an insult.

Really, your smile was set for the night.

 

“(y/n), right?” She spoke as you turned to leave.

“Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you.” She didn’t offer her name, perhaps in case you’d seen the name in Tony’s contacts; you knew it already, anyway. “Tony’s a lucky guy.”

“So I’ve heard.” The dry smile that cracked across your face spontaneously probably splintered both of your souls.

 

“What you said earlier… it’s a line from Moulin Rouge right?”

“Mhm.”

“Tony quotes it all the time.” She was treading on thin waters; maybe she felt like she owed you. She needn’t have bothered.

“I think he just uses it as an excuse to drink absinthe.” You responded, and she had her first real laugh of the night.

“That’s Tony’s favorite movie, isn’t it?”

You looked into the distance, not for dramatic effect; just remembering.

 

“Let me get this straight; he falls in love with a working girl, who was seducing him for money; then she falls in love with him because she sees how much he loves her even though he only loves her in the first place because of a lie?”

“Yep.”

“And so he wants her to stop turning tricks, but she doesn’t, and then she does, and then a jealous slut tells on her and ruins everything; but in the end they get together only to have her die like three seconds later?”

“Uh huh.”

“And you like this movie why?”

“Well the costumes and choreography are great.”

“If you want me to buy you clothes and sign you up for dance classes, you can just ask.”

You shoved him with a laugh; he was full of shit. He made you pay him back for McDonalds last week. After he had urged you to buy the 20 piece Mcnuggets; seriously five dollars for that crap?! That’s 25 cents a nugget, and it doesn’t even come with fries.

“Well I also like how the movie frustrates you so much so you complain the entire time and forget to try to make out with me.”

“…oh shit. I forgot!” He leaned in obnoxiously, retreating before your hands even made it to his chest to push him away.

“But my favorite thing about it has nothing to do with the movie.”

“You women are weird.”

“It’s how despite how much you whine, you always cry at the end.”

He made a huge gasp of horror. “Take that back!!”

“You think you’re fooling me by putting shades on exactly two minutes before credits? I think not.”

“That is libel, little missy, and I can afford the best lawyers in the country. Maybe the world.”

“Too bad they can’t buy you a brain. Libel is published; this is called slander.”

“I’ll show you slander!”

And as he lifted you onto his lap to pepper you with kisses, you knew you’d love that movie for the rest of your life.

 

“Uhm, Miss (Y/n)?” Her use of the honorific brought you back. So you shook your head and responded.

 

“It was mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> WAHHHH  
> BAHHHH  
> MY HEARTTTT
> 
> give me some love if you enjoyed!!! also let me know if you want a sequel ;)
> 
> random ramblings:  
> UGH. MY HEART.  
> i decided to name it Mr. Brightside instead of Mrs. Brightside because Tony's not a whore in the sense of the song (which would make you mrs. brightside); more like he expects/hopes you to stay even though he's a terrible boyfriend and that's his "bright side"  
> i will probably write a Mrs. Brightside style fic with loki/reader so there's that..
> 
> poll 1: can we reconcile with Tony? (if you answered no to this i probably can't write a sequel.. lol) i guess a better question is would you forgive him?
> 
> i tried to make this very unique; cheating man-centric instead of hating on the women (too many people i know always blame the women). in this case i made it so that Tony lied to the women and told them he and reader were on a break even though you never were, you were together and mostly happy the whole time (except not happy about the cheating, obviously)  
> that way we could focus on channeling the Brightside, and bring a different perspective to the other girls who with him
> 
> i didn't bother choosing a name for the girl in the silver dress; i felt like the anonymity added to the angst; she didn't have a name to you or to Tony; she was just another pawn in his selfish game
> 
> poll 2: what was the saddest line/ part?  
> i didn't include the breakup in this fic (will probably do that in the sequel, or maybe skip over to the aftermath) so that the raw emotion of 'Brightside' would be the focus  
> seeing as how i destroyed my own heart at the end without needing to write out the breakup, i think i pulled it off  
> another sad part for me was when lovely drops the lipstick; in case you didn't know, she did it on purpose; she just made it seem like it was tony's fault when really she just wasn't ready to head out with him
> 
> poll 3: ideas/predictions for the sequel?? do you think you'd rather have this stand as a one-shot?
> 
> let me know guys =)
> 
> i don't really like Moulin Rouge... i only like it because of the experiences i had watching it with my friends (singing and dancing along, crying into our hot chocolate at the end..)  
> i do think the plot is stupid and a cheap shot; it generates emotion through a shocking event and not much nuance  
> i do love the song and video for roxanne though (the movie version not sting's original)~ the music video for Mr. Brightside can't compare
> 
> i'm in a Killers mood- probably going to write a couple fics based on When We Were Young and Miss Atomic Bomb
> 
> i think i managed to sneak a mild mindfuck in there with how you handled the situation in the bathroom with the woman in the silver dress; pretty uncliche if i do say so myself =)
> 
> that's all this time lovelies!! leave me a comment and i'll see you soon 
> 
> XOXO Bucky (the Heartbreaker)


End file.
